“How’s she doing?” I ask, still not understanding her reaction. She sounds like she put her dog down instead of hearing I’m in a new relationship.
“I don’t know what’s going on with her. I was trying to ask but she couldn’t give me a clear answer. I’m as confused as you are.”
“I mean, it's sort of a big reaction, but it’s fine.” I get it, I’m struggling to keep everything from spiraling myself. I squeeze his shoulder, “Go take care of her.”
Craig takes out his cellphone from his back pocket and continues to rub his neck. “Alana King, that’s her name?”
“Yeaaah.” I drag out the word, because I’m not sure I’m gonna like what he has to say.
Craig has a pale expression, like he’s losing a battle between his stomach and his mouth. He stares down at his phone and exhales. “Did she tell you what she does for a living?”
“She runs a few companies.” My gut twists, and the anxiety builds again.
Craig swallows and lifts up his phone. There’s the logo to Grasshopper, and further down the screen Sunshine Ink. Nothing I didn’t already know. It’s the same page I went to a few days ago, but then he scrolls down. I didn’t do that the first time and there’s an elephant logo just below the screen.
Alana King:
CEO and Owner of Mastodon Securities.
Why didn’t she tell me? It only leads to a million more questions I need answers to. I loved Kinsley Adams, but who is Alana King and what else is she hiding?
CHAPTER 19
Alana
Day 4
I didn’t have it in me to go back to work. By now, Darren’s told everyone on the whole staff, and the entirety of the Four Families know. I keep trying to do a threat analysis, playing endless rounds of the ‘what if’ game. If Thiago and Lance turn the Four Families against me, then what…? If the vibe in the office changes and everyone thinks I’m incompetent, then what? Years of work and honing an image would be gone in an instant.
The answer is the same: cut him loose, move to Seattle for a while and focus on Grasshopper. I’ve already got a flight loaded on my phone. But I’ve built a life here. Could I walk away from that?
Midge is purring on my lap, not quite sleeping. I stroke under her chin, and her rhythmic purrs lull me into a false sense of security. “What do you think, should we be West Coast girls for a while?” She offers me no help.
My practical thinking is what’s kept me alive for the last decade. And Alana King isn’t the kind of woman who loses her identity and her power over… a man. There are billions of them. He’s not that special. But no, I had to go and change the fucking plan, why? Because he said he was sorry, and I was a fan of a retrospective show.
I’m so stupid. I let myself get all caught up in being Kinsley, let my guard down and now I’ve put him in danger. Literally everything I’m not supposed to do.
There’s a knock at the door which wakes up Midge. I check the cameras on my open laptop. Grae’s bouncing back and forth and he has something in his hands. A box? As someone in security, I loathe boxes. Too many variables—weapons, poison, a glitter bomb. Maybe if I stay really still, he’ll go away. He knocks a second time and then sends a text.
My Biggest Mistake: You home?
Sigh. Open the door and tell him it’s not going to work and leave it at that. But to do that, I have to lift Midge off my lap, and she gives me a grumbly meow. She has every right to be upset. I’ve broken the cardinal rule of cat ownership. Midge lifts her head, squints and lowers her chin.
The doorknob feels solid in my hand, like when I open this door, everything will change. “Hi.” I don’t think I did a good job of keeping my emotions neutral.
He doesn’t lean in for a kiss. Odd. I’m the one who's supposed to break up with him. What does he know? His hands are shaking and his eyes are dilated… early panic attack?
“Two things.” He pushes past me and drops the box on the floor. Midge jumps down from the couch, rubs on his leg then sniffs it. It takes all of ten seconds for her to claim it as her own.
“You brought her a box?” Butterflies and all the feelings swell up. Why does he have to be so goooood? Lance lived with Midge for years and never brought her anything. Midge purrs and tucks her tiny legs under her body like cat loaf while Grae starts pacing in the space between my couch and the kitchen.
“That was the first, and now I’m trying to pick the right words and tone for number two.”
Shit. Is he about to break up with me? I can’t go through this again. My thumb rubs against the tips of my other fingers. How long has that been going on? Thumb circles have been my go-to self-soothing technique.
“You own Mastodon.” This comes out loud, with a dash of confusion and anger. Huh? Mastodon? How did he find out about Mastodon? Was he approached by one of the Four Families?
“Did Darren tell you?” That’s the only logical solution, but he whips around wildly.
